


A Little Tenderness

by TricksterBee (calliope_rises)



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Character Bleed, Dom!Misha, Dom/sub Undertones, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional release, Fluff and Angst, Light BDSM, M/M, Polyamory, sub!Jensen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-26
Updated: 2016-05-26
Packaged: 2018-07-10 06:24:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6969766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calliope_rises/pseuds/TricksterBee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen is experiencing more than a little character bleed thanks to what's happening in Season 11 between Cas and Dean. He's been pulling away from Misha and everyone else, leaving them all worried about him. Misha finally gets to the end of his patience with waiting for Jensen to come to him about what's bothering him, so he corners his lover in his trailer. With Jensen firmly believing that he's bad for Misha and that he ruins everything, Misha knows he's the only one who can help Jensen see that they are separate from the characters they play. He sets out to remind Jensen of the love they share and to show him just how wonderful a man he is and how much he deserves love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Little Tenderness

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my awesome beta and bestie for keeping me on track and for keeping me company as Cockles trash:) Love you, L!
> 
> Thanks to arakey.tumblr.com for the perfect piece of art for this fic! You're awesome:)

Jensen sat in his trailer, lights dimmed, glass of whiskey in his hand. The television wasn’t on and he’d turned his phone to vibrate, and he just sat staring at nothing. As he raised the glass to take another sip, his hand trembled so much that the amber liquid sloshed out the side and onto the worn t-shirt he’d slipped on. He couldn’t get the thoughts out of his head no matter how much he tried. He was having a hard time convincing himself that he and Misha weren’t the same as Dean and Castiel. And as ridiculous as it may seem that he was having a hard time separating fact from fiction, the thoughts were persistent.

Filming today had almost broken him—he’d barely made it back to his trailer before the tears and numbness began. The look in Misha’s—no, Castiel’s, he told himself as he shook his head to clear it—eyes haunted him. Seeing Castiel look so defeated day after day and knowing that the angel thought he didn’t matter to Dean weighed on his mind. 

And so here he sat in the almost dark downing whiskey in the hopes that he’d soon be drunk enough to forget what a piece of shit he was. He slumped down further on the couch and rubbed his eyes. Tilting his head to rest on the back of the couch, Jensen sighed as his eyes closed. He was so tired of being sad, of feeling like he was complete and utter shit, of being the one to cause Misha pain. He was just like Dean, and Misha deserved better.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Misha hesitated just outside Jensen’s trailer. The man he loved had been off for weeks now. The others on set may not have noticed, but Misha knew Jensen as well as he knew Vicki and himself, so he could see him burrowing further and further into the funk that had driven him to hide in his trailer. He’d let it go in a way because he’d always been able to coax a smile out of Jensen, but today, the past few days really, Misha hadn’t been able to get even a glimmer of a smile out of the other man. In fact, he’d flinched when Misha touched him gently to get his attention between takes. The look in Jensen’s eyes tore at him, and he wanted to lean in and smooth his lips over his tense jawline. But he’d backed off and given him space despite wanting to put his arms around him and tell him things would be okay. When Jensen disappeared from set, Misha figured he’d gone back to his trailer to brood, and with his own filming not done for the day, he’d had no choice but to let him go alone. His texts attempting to check up on Jensen had gone unanswered in the two hours since he’d last seen him on set, and with each passing minute Misha had gotten more and more worried. Jensen had a tendency to get into his head too much when filming, and Misha was afraid this was what happened with all the shit going down in this season. So, after he was finally finished with his last scene of the day, he shook off Casifer’s effects and made his way to his own trailer long enough to change into a frayed pair of jeans and a well-worn Metallica t-shirt he’d borrowed from Jensen months ago.

Misha knocked softly on the door to his trailer, and hearing no response, let himself in and closed the door firmly. He caught his breath at the almost tangible despair radiating from the man on the couch.

“Jen,” he whispered when the other man didn’t look up at him. No response. “Jensen?” His voice was a little louder. Still nothing. Misha knew he was being heard because Jensen’s fingers twitched against the glass he was holding and he heard a tiny hitch in his breath every time he called his name—and yet he sat there, head lowered, glass held loosely in his hand, silent.

And that sort of pissed him off.

Yes, he knew that Jensen was going through something. That much was obvious. But for them to be in a relationship and for Jensen to say that he loves Misha and then to lock himself up like that mentally and emotionally…well, that pissed Misha off because it was scary as hell.

His jaw clenched and he had to fight the urge to step closer and force Jensen to meet his gaze and give him some sort of response. This had gone on long enough. He was going to find out what was going on, and he was going to fix it.

“Jensen,” he said, voice sharp and demanding attention. He was pleased to see Jensen respond by raising his head, but that soon turned to sadness at the pure anguish in the other man’s eyes and the tears that threatened to spill over. “Jen, baby, what’s wrong? Is it Dani? Did something happen to JJ? Are you hurt? What is it?”

Misha sank onto the couch beside Jensen, reaching out to gently turn his face toward him. Jensen didn’t speak at first, didn’t even meet Misha’s eyes, only let out harsh breaths as tears spilled over. “Jay, please…talk to me.”

“I can’t.”

“Can’t what?”

“I can’t do this anymore.”

Misha’s heart clenched and his entire body went cold. His voice was almost a whisper as he asked, “Can’t do what anymore?”

“This…us,” Jensen replied, gesturing wildly and sloshing more whiskey out onto his shirt. “I’m no go for you. All I do is make you feel like you’re not important, like you don’t matter. I can’t be the one that puts that look in your eyes anymore.” Jensen stood abruptly and stalked over to the small kitchen, slamming his glass on the counter almost hard enough to break it. “I can’t hurt you like that anymore. You deserve better than me. So much better.”

Misha’s mouth fell open as he stared at Jensen’s back. He could see the tension in his shoulders as well as the way his body trembled as he stood just a short distance away. How in the world had Jensen gotten the idea that he was hurting Misha? Other than Jared, no one on set knew about their relationship, and he couldn’t see their friend telling Jensen something like that. So what the hell was going on?

“What makes you think you’ve hurt me? You’ve done nothing wrong, and I’m not hurt.” He stood and walked to stand just behind the other man. “I’m confused,” he whispered softly, reaching out a tentative hand to brush his fingers along Jensen’s back. Despite being hurt by his words and behavior, Misha felt the need to touch the other man, both to reassure him and to reassure himself that everything was okay. “I need you to help me understand what’s going on.” Feeling that somehow it would help his cause in the moment, he added, “You owe me an explanation at least, don’t you think?”

“I can see it in your eyes every time you look at me, Misha.” Jensen sighed. “I don’t blame you, though. I’m not easy to be around. It’s no wonder you feel like you’re not important and that you have to take chances on things that could destroy you just to feel like you matter to me.” A visible shiver ran through him and he leaned heavily on the counter. “You should run fast and far from me.”

“The only thing you should be seeing in my eyes when I look at you is love, Jen. I love you; I’ve told you that on the daily because I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember.” He laid his hand more firmly upon Jensen’s back. “And what is this about me thinking I’m not important and that I don’t matter to you. I have _never_ felt like that around you, babe, and I don’t get why you’d think that. Have I said or done anything to make you think otherwise?”

“No…yes…just…Misha, this isn’t going to work. You have to stay away from me.”

“Bullshit.”

Jensen stiffened and inhaled sharply. “It’s not bullshit. You know it’s true.”

“The only thing I know is that you need to stop lying to me and to yourself and tell me what the hell is going on. I don’t know what this bullshit is you believe, but it’s so far from the truth that it’s not even in the same galaxy.” Misha heard how harsh his voice had gotten and took a deep breath, trying to center himself again and calm down. He knew it was his fear that was making him react like this, fear that Jensen really was going to force him to stay away. He didn’t know if he’d be able to honor that if the other man really did desire it—he’d come to need Jensen far too much to even imagine his life without him. “I love you, Jensen. You are not hurting me, and I know that you love me.” Suddenly, clarity struck and he groaned. “Does this have anything to do with what we’ve been filming this season?” Jensen shifted to move away from him, and Misha flexed his fingers to hold onto his shirt loosely, prompting him to stop moving. That alone was confirmation that he’d found the source of all of this. He felt an almost giddy sense of relief. This he could deal with—it wasn’t the first time any of them had dealt with character bleed, Jensen especially. There were countless times during filming when Dean had the Mark that Jensen had needed Misha’s focused attention to help him separate from his fictional persona. “Jen, just because Dean and Cas are going through some shit right now doesn’t mean anything for us. I know you love me no matter what is happening between them on camera.” He moved to Jensen’s side and nudged him in an attempt to get the other man to look at him. “I know you love me. What is happening with Dean and Cas has nothing to do with you and me.”

“Mish…”

“No, Jensen. Stop.”

Pressing his hand to the small of Jensen’s back, he let a note of command enter his voice, knowing what that would accomplish. Sure enough, at the combination of the tone he used when he and Jensen fell into their roles of Dominant and submissive in the bedroom and a firm touch to that particular area of the other man’s body, Jensen glanced at him briefly before exhaling softly and lowering his eyes. “We are going to go home, and I am going to help you remember who we are.” Reaching out, he turned the other man to face him. “I love you.” When Jensen didn’t meet his gaze, he reached out to lift his face, smiling slightly when bright green eyes finally met his own. There was still doubt in his eyes, but there was also the smallest bit of hope, and above all, Misha could see his own love mirrored in the eyes that looked back at him. Nodding, he said, “Good. Now, slip some shoes on and let’s go.”

“But…”

Misha stopped and raised an eyebrow at Jensen. “No buts. We’ll finish talking about this at home.” He watched as Jensen shuffled past him to put on his shoes, gesturing to the door for the other man to precede him. As Jensen reached out to open the door and leave his trailer, Misha crowded against him, putting a hand on his hip to stop him and leaning close enough for his lips to brush his ear. “And when we get home, you’re going to go to our room, strip, and wait for me.”

A shudder went through Jensen’s body, and his body relaxed back against Misha. “Yes, Sir,” he murmured before opening the door and stepping down the steps onto the asphalt. Misha’s hand was a warm, comforting presence on his lower back, and he had to fight down the urge to turn into the touch and beg Misha to hold him. He was so confused. Deep down, he knew Misha was right, but the feeling that he’d somehow hurt the man he loved was so strong that it was still a little difficult to believe that things weren’t messed up between them.

 

As they drove toward the apartment they shared, Misha never let go of his hand, brushing his thumb soothingly over the back of Jensen’s hand. His mind was filled with the possibilities of what would happen once they were behind closed doors, but he knew that no matter what, Misha was going to take care of him.

Misha always took care of him.

He didn’t deserve the kind of love that Misha showed him on a daily basis. He wasn’t nearly worthy enough. It was bad enough that Daneel had to put up with him. Jensen tensed, and he tried to pull his hand from Misha’s loose grip.

“Stop it, Jensen.” Misha refused to let his hand go. He’d felt the tension enter his body and wasn’t going to let it go unnoticed. That was part of the problem—he’d let things go for far too long without saying something and his lack of action had allowed Jensen to wallow in his negative thinking. “Whatever you’re thinking, stop. I love you. You love me. We’re okay.”

Jensen bit his bottom lip and turned to the window, feeling tears welling up in his eyes again. Dammit, why couldn’t he stop crying? He was supposed to be strong. He was supposed to be a fucking adult, a father. What kind of father couldn’t keep his shit together? Some father and role model he was, sitting here crying over who the hell knew what. His other hand balled up against his thigh.

Misha glanced to the side when he felt Jensen continue to stiffen beside him. When they came to a stop at the next traffic light, he let go of his hand to reach out and turn Jensen’s face toward his. “Jensen, what did I tell you? Am I going to have to punish you when we get home?” He sat waiting on a response. “Well?”

“I’m sorry. I just think that you don’t get…”

“So you’re questioning whether I know what’s best right now?”

“Mish, you don’t get it.”

Misha surged forward, capturing Jensen’s lips in a rough kiss just as the car behind them honked its horn. He nipped at the other man’s bottom lip, smiling slightly at the soft moan that earned him. “You’ve earned yourself 20 when we get home, so after you undress, be ready to tell me whether it will be my hand or the flogger. If you haven’t made your mind up by the time I ask you, you’ll get 30.”

He turned his attention back to the road, but he didn’t fail to catch the way Jensen began to squirm slightly after his declaration or the tension still radiating from him. Apparently Jensen would need more convincing than he thought if he was still questioning what Misha was telling him. He kept a firm grip on Jensen’s hand, knowing that both of them needed that simple connection.

Jensen couldn’t help but think about what Misha had said before they left his trailer. How could Misha be sure he loved him? He licked his lips and spared a glance at the man beside him. God, Misha was beautiful, both inside and out. He didn’t deserve his love, but Misha had said he loved him, right? Jensen shook his head and turned his gaze to the scenery speeding past outside his window, trying to consider the choice his lover had given him. He still didn’t know why Misha cared, but he was going to do his best to make it up to him for getting stuck with such a loser.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They didn’t speak for the rest of the drive and were even silent in the elevator and upon entering their apartment. After removing his shoes and nudging them neatly into the corner by the door, Jensen glanced at Misha to find him watching with a cocked eyebrow. An involuntary shiver traveled down his spine at the look; he knew that eyebrow well and what it meant for him. His eyes dropped as Misha spoke. “Have you decided?”

“Yes,” he replied quietly.

“And your decision?” Misha prompted.

“The flogger, please.”

That wasn’t the answer he was expecting. Jensen didn’t like the flogger all that much, and he was going to find out why he’d requested it before considering going with his choice. But that could wait until they were in their bedroom. Something had prompted Jensen to go with the flogger over Misha’s hand, and he had a feeling the choice had more to do with avoidance than with really desiring to feel the sting of the leather tails against his flesh.

“As you wish.” Misha kept his eyes on Jensen’s face, hoping he would look up, but Jensen seemed determined not to make eye contact, and not because they were in the beginning of a scene. When the other man still didn’t make a move to go to their room, he said, “You know what to do…or do you need a reminder.”

“No, Sir. I remember, Sir.”

He watched as Jensen shuffled silently back to their bedroom before turning to go into the kitchen. Leaning against the counter, he hung his head and sighed heavily. Jensen was such a huge part of his life. The love he had for Vicki was strong, and their relationship and family was something that gave him strength to face every day. But the love he shared with Jensen—that was something different. Strong and all-encompassing and present from almost the very day they met…at least on Misha’s side. It had taken a while to get the other man to realize that loving more than one person, especially if that person was of the same sex, was okay, but he had no doubt that Jensen loved him just as deeply as Misha loved him. He just had to remind Jensen that the love they shared was real and that he wasn’t a broken man who brought down everyone around him.

 

Jensen padded down the hall to their bedroom, his mind spinning. He wanted so badly to be the person Misha needed, but he was terrified that he wasn’t. Starting with his socks, he removed each item of clothing he wore, folding it into a neat pile on the chair in the corner. Once he was naked, he stepped off of the smooth hardwoods onto the plush rug surrounding their bed, sinking gracefully to his knees. He sank back onto his heels, hands at his lower back, back straight and eyes down. And he waited.

It wasn’t long before he heard Misha’s quiet footsteps entering the room, but the man said nothing to him. Jensen tried to quiet his mind and calm himself, but all he could feel was Misha’s eyes on him. Not judging him, just looking at him. He felt more than heard Misha’s steps circle around him until he came to a stop almost directly in front of him. Silence reigned for longer than Jensen was comfortable with and he was seconds from fidgeting and looking up at Misha when the man spoke.

“Why did you choose the flogger, Jensen?”

“I only want to do what will make you happy, Sir.”

“And why do you think the flogger would make me happy?”

“Because I deserve to be punished, Sir.”

Misha sighed, which caused Jensen to release a shaky breath. He’d displeased him somehow…again.

“Jensen, look at me.”

He lifted his eyes to meet Misha’s, but once he caught a glimpse of those breathtaking cerulean orbs and the love and concern shining strongly in them, he dropped his gaze again.

“Jensen,” Misha said quietly, reaching out to take hold of Jensen’s chin and raise his head. “Look at me.” His voice was firm, but Jensen could also hear a note of vulnerability in it. “Why do you think you deserve to be punished?”

“Because…” His voice failed him and he swallowed hard before continuing. “Because I ruin everything, Sir. I deserve to be punished, Sir, because I’m no good.” His eyes met Misha’s and filled with tears.

Misha’s fingers slid over his face in a gentle caress as he cupped his cheek. “Jen, baby, love…love is what you deserve. You’re everything good in this world.” He watched the tears spill over and frowned. “Get up on the bed. Lay on your stomach.”

“Yes, Sir.” Jensen’s breath hitched brokenly as he stood and followed his directions, lying on his stomach in the center of their bed, arms stretched out to his sides, legs slightly spread, and face sideways on the pillow. He listened intently for hints about what Misha was doing, but all he could hear was a slightly muffled shuffling of clothing. A quiet sniffle left him as he willed away the tears that lingered in his eyes. Suddenly, the bed beside him sank as Misha climbed up, but he didn’t settle beside him. Jensen was surprised to feel Misha’s naked weight settle on his upper thighs.

“I’ve changed my mind, Jensen.”

“Sir?”

“There will not be a flogger or my hand tonight because you don’t deserve to be punished, at least not in the way you think you should.”

“Yes, Sir,” Jensen murmured uncertainly. He heard the snick of a bottle top opening and closing and then Misha’s long fingers began to press firmly at the muscles of his back through a light coating of massage oil.

“Since you think you don’t deserve it, since you think you ruin everything, since you think you’re no good…I’m going to punish you,” Misha began, “but I’m going to punish you with love.” He was silent for a moment as he draped himself completely over Jensen’s back to speak his next words directly into Jensen’s ear. “Not as Sir, but as Misha, the man who has loved you for years and who will love you for years to come.” He kissed Jensen’s jaw, nuzzling the stubble as he exhaled slowly against his lover’s skin. “Right now we’re just Misha and Jensen, just us, no one else.”

Sitting up, he continued to massage Jensen, fingers smoothing over freckled skin. “You are a good man. A wonderful father and husband. A man that I never thought I’d be lucky enough to have love me.” He saw Jensen’s face scrunch up and felt the silent sob that wracked the body below him. Misha leaned down to press a kiss between Jensen’s shoulder blades, running his hands along his lover’s arms until he was able to twine their hands together as he practically lay on top of him. “Jen, you are everything I could ever want. Your heart is so big, and when you love, you love completely. There has never been a time when I haven’t been sure of your love or when I’ve felt that I made a mistake by loving you.”

Jensen felt a sob building in his chest at Misha’s words, the first burst silently from him as tears began to fall from his eyes. He allowed Misha to turn them on their sides, continuing to sob as the man he loved wrapped his arms around him and held him close. The words of love and reassurance continued to flow as Jensen cried, the truth of that love sinking into his soul and reassuring him that he and Misha were solid. As he felt Misha’s warm breath on the back of his neck and clung tightly to the arms that were wrapped around him, his sobbing ebbed and he was able to catch his breath again. The skin to skin contact helped to ground him as Misha continued to repeat “I love you” over and over, both in English and in Russian.

“I love you too, Mish,” he murmured as he sniffled. “So much.” Jensen turned in Misha’s arms, snuggling as closely as he could, one leg wedged between Misha’s and his face resting in the crook of his neck. “Thank you.” He nuzzled his lover’s stubbled jaw with a sigh. “I love you.” He yawned, suddenly very tired now that he’d released the pent up emotions that had been trapped inside him.

“I know you do.” Misha pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “I will always love you.” He tightened his arms around Jensen. “Let’s get some sleep. I have plans for us in the morning.”

Jensen yawned and released a sleepy chuckle. “I hope those plans involve taking advantage of the fact that we’re naked.”

“You’ll just have to wait and see, now won’t you?” Misha replied with a chuckle. “Now, sleep, love. You’ll need it.”

Cuddled together, secure in their love for each other, it wasn’t long before their breathing evened out and they fell into a dreamless sleep.


End file.
